A Whisper in the Wind
by The Ink Stained Quill
Summary: Beka tries to do her bit for Tortall as it hovers on the cusp of war with Scanra. The Lower City needs all its Dogs, but Beka soon finds that she may be needed for far more important things then her Watch before long. BekaxRosto as often as I can.
1. A Whisper on the Streets

**Disclaimer: I am not Tamora Pierce, only a devoted fan. the characters and setting are all hers, but the plot is mine (a little bit belongs to my sister, Sir Gwydion). **

**Sir Gwydion and I have switched our usual roles for this story, I as fledgling writer, and she as my editor of little experience. Reserve judgment on me for the time being, and we'll see how we get along. **

**Lizzy, The Ink Stained Quill**

* * *

There is something wrong in Tortall. 

Everyone knows it, can hear it in the hushed whispers, in the quiet streets, in the wind that barely stirs my dust spinners at their corners. Can hear it in the one word on everyone in Corus's lips : war.

The trouble with Scanra started not so very long ago, when King Roger sent his ambassadors, and they never came back. Not a word has been heard from the Scanrans since that day, but folk say that the Spymaster's men have been in and out and heard some queer things whilst they were about it.

Beacause of all the ill feeling toward Scanra, Rosto has been having trouble keeping the Rogue in order. He recieves at least one challenge every day, and on one, I'll never forget, _seven. _He never goes anywhere alone anymore, nor will he be able to until things settle down. It is hard on us all, having to watch our backs lest we be damned by association. It is both easier and harder for me. Easier, cause I'm a Dog, and there for not considered to be in with the Rats, and harder, cause Rosto never kept it a secret that he'd drop all his other mots for me, were I to give him the smallest hint that I wanted to start that sort of going-on with him. Much as I sometimes wish that I could do just that, I have a duty to the Kingdom, and too, he's a rusher. I swore to myself the day mama died that I would never go with a rusher, and end up with the lung rot, like she did.

Goodwin says that I'm doing the right thing, and Tunstall too. Ordinarily I wouldn't have talked to my Dogs about sommat like this, but Goodwin has a way of barking questions at you, and it doesn't matter if you answer or not, as she can tell right off by the look on your face, and one day she did just that to me, asking, all sharp, what was going on between me and the Rogue.

There is also more crime and murder and theft then I have ever seen. When I asked him, Tunstall said it was the talk of impending war that set everything on it ears. "Folk go a little mad when there's a war on," he told me. "The way they see it, its only so long before they get sent off with the army, so that had best get all the living they can done while they may."

Even my fool cat has decide to get on with things right quickly. Pounce has a lady-cat that sometime goes off with him to yowl or chase mice, or sommat. Whenever I ask him, he only nudges me with his nose and says that if I want to hear about romantic exploits, I had best find someone who wants to share, or have my own. Whenever he says this, I lift him off my lap and glare at him and tell him he knows full well I don't have the time for that sort of thing right now. He only laughs his cat-laugh and purrs and rubs himself against me till he is forgiven and I am grinning like a looby.

We had had just such an encounter not five minutes past when I heard a knock at my door and--

To be continued . . .


	2. Declaration of War

**My chapters are always going to be pretty short, but I'll update a lot and try for a bit more length, so hopefully it will all balance out in the end. Thank you for your reviews! Hmm, I never really thought of myself as a writer, that's always been Gwydion's thing. I've been missing out big time.**

**Lizzy**

_We had had just such an encounter not five minutes past when I heard a knock at my door and _in walked Kora, with Aniki just behind her. "Hello," I said, then seeing the looks on their faces, I stood, unhooking Pounce's claws from my shirt. "Is sommat wrong?"

Kora just nodded, and sat herself down on the edge of my bed, elbows propped on knees, face propped on hands.

"It's really bad, Beka," Aniki told me. "Bad for all of us, and things are only going to get worse."

Already knowing the answer, I asked , "Scanra?"

She gave me a speaking look. "The new Scanran king is a madman. The only reason he's managed to keep the throne even as long as he has was his mother, and she's dead now. Mithros knows what will happen now he's declared war on Tortall."

"Is there any word on what King Roger is going to do?"

"No, not yet. What do you think is going to happen now? Its your home, after all."

I shook my head, then headed out to walk my Watch.

In sharp contrast to the recent pandemonium, it was very quiet out on the streets. It had all of us Dogs jumping at the slightest noise. We only made one arrest, and he wasn't worth the trouble of taking to the Cages. It was like the Lower City dropped all of its usual business to congregate in taverns and inns, murmuring in the dim light of fires or lanterns.

I wish I had Tunstall's happy nature, or Goodwin's way of snarling at a thing until it either goes away or has come close enough for her to beat it over the head, like she'd do with her baton. Instead, I have eyes that make folk flinch to see them, when I'm upset or angry. I think that if I hear the word 'ghost' applied to my eyes ever again, I will not be able to help myself from cracking whoever said it over the head with my baton.

_And there was me thinking I'm nothing like Goodwin, _I thought to myself as I left the Kennel for home. The summer air was muggy, and the gentle droning of insects filled my ears, when I felt a feather light tug at my belt. _Ah, someone thinks this is a fine day for purse cutting. Think again, cause I'm a Dog in a fowl temper, and I don't take to having my hard-earned Puppy wages stolen. _I whirled about, baton in hand, ready to smash it into the filcher's nose, only to see Rosto, grinning. I checked my belt, but there was nothing missing, so he must just have given my money bag a tug to tease me. I cursed under my breath.

"You should see the look on your face, love," he said, chuckling.

I scowled, then noticed that he was alone. "Where's your escort?" I asked, ignoring his comment.

"Kora's with Ersken, Aniki's got better things to do, Phelan's busy, and any one else might just as easily kill me themself, so I'm better off without them."

"So you come and inflict your presence on me?"

He raised his eyebrow. "_Some_one's got to save the next poor wretch who gets on your nerves. And get you into a better mood, somehow. You have a visitor waiting at the Dancing Dove, and he looks like the sort who would take offence at having his head bitten off."

I looked up, interested in spite of myself. "A visitor at this time of night? Who is it?"

To be continued . . .


	3. Visitor in the Night

**You may have noticed a few random questions marks in the last chapter. They were due to Word going crazy, and replacing every space with a question mark. I thought I caught 'em all, but it would seem I was wrong. **

**And now, on with the story. . . and the gloriously torturesome cliffhangers. You should hear Gwydion squeak!**

**Lizzy**

_I looked up, interested in spite of myself. "A visitor at this time of night? Who is it?"_

Rosto shrugged."I've never seen him before. He said his name was Reemest Corhalt."

"Dear Goddess!" I very nearly screamed. "Reemest Corhalt is waiting at the Dancing Dove, to talk to _me_? And you didn't tell me until now?" Not waiting to hear his reply, I started running as fast as I could for the Dove.

"Who is he?" Rosto asked, hurrying to keep up with me.

I glanced over at Rosto, making sure he knew to keep his mouth shut. I could tell this to my friend, but it might cause trouble if it were bandied about the Kingdom.

"He is almost certainly the the King's spymaster," I told him. "He used to be a Dog, born and bred in the Lower City. He's so good that he was next in line for the Provost for years and years. Then he disappeared, and for the longest time I believed all the rumors that someone had doused him, but then I heard him talking to my Lord Provost, only I wasn't supposed to. From what he said, he'd been working under cover for the past three years, and had just taken the place of the old spymaster, who'd died, leaving him second in command. I still don't know for sure though. But I do know that he isn't someone to keep waiting. He's infamous for his temper, and whatever he wants to talk about, I'd druther have him in a good mood."

As we hurtled into Nipcopper Close, I caught a strange expression on his face, but there was no time to understand it.

The Dancing Dove used to be an inn, but Rosto bought it and turned the lower floor into a tavern. There's still the four sets of rooms, but it's noisier than it used to be. The Rogue wasn't assembled then, but a fair few Rats were there, downing a last jack of ale before heading home. Seeing the Dog, albeit a Puppy, enter the inn in the company of the King of the Rogue caused a few odd looks, but in general, folk don't pry into Rosto the Piper's business. It isn't healthy.

"I told him to wait in one of the back rooms," Rosto murmured in my ear. He hesitated, then added, "And if he's here for what I think he is, good luck to you. If you leave, say goodbye first, so we don't have Tunstall and Goodwin here to avenge your murder. Needless to say, you'll always be welcome here." Then he was gone.

I stared after him, bemused. Leave? What was he talking about? I shrugged uneasily, and headed toward the back rooms.

Kora caught me before I had gone two steps. "Beka, who is that?" She nodded toward the rooms. If she had been a cat, all her fur would have been on end and her claws unsheathed.

"I think its former Guardsman Corhalt. You've heard of him?"

"Yes, but Beka, there is something very wrong with that man. Something mage-wrong. Its like he has the Gift, but, its -- I don't know, but be very, _very _careful."

I smiled to reassure her. "I'll be fine. Rosto says he just wants to talk to me. Probably he needs a message taken to my Lord Provost, and needs someone who he knows will get it there."

She looked at me skeptically. "He knows you?"

"Not _exactly, _but I know that he knows that I lived at the Provost's house for eight years."

She shook her head, not like she didn't believe me, more like she wished it were true. "Watch your back." With a final worried glance in my direction, she wandered distractedly over to Aniki, who was playing dice with a cove twice her size. I couldn't be sure, but it looked like Aniki had the upper hand. Poor fellow.

After looking into two empty rooms, I found the right one. A tall cove in his late twenties sat at the table in there. He had the blackest hair I had ever seen, with eyes to match and a pale, fierce face. When he saw me, he stood. "Guardswoman Rebakah Cooper?"

I nodded. "Beka when I'm off duty." Wary of Kora's warning, I stood just inside the doorway, irresolute. " You're Reemest Corhalt?"

It was his turn to nod. "That I am. Sit down, if you would. I have an interesting proposal for you."

To be continued . . .


	4. An Interesting Proposal

**Wow, I have let this story sit and moulder for far too long.**

** I'd almost decided not to continue with it, and gave my sister Sir Gwydion permission to use Reemest Corhalt in her story _Bloodhound on the Scent_. But at the last minute I couldn't bear to part with my story, so Corhalt is in both of them. Good luck not getting them mixed up.**

** Truth to tell, her Corhalt is much nicer then mine ever will be and only a minor character, so it aughtn't to be _too _hard.  
**

**Lizzy, The Ink Stained Quill**

* * *

_"Sit down, if you would. I have an interesting proposal for you."_

Warily, I moved farther into the room and seated myself across from him. He seemed in no hurry to continue, but stared into the fire. It didn't matter; I could out wait him if I had to. Mayhap it was some sort of test. You never can tell with spies, though I've little or no experience with them.

"Tell me," Corhalt said at length, "Why are you a Dog?" His voice was a strange compendium of accents and inflections, like he had lived in many countries long enough to pick up the manner of speech there and could do it yet, had he wanted to.

"Because I was born in the Lower City, and lived here till I was eight. I want to help keep it a safe place."

"Sentiment then?"

"No, not at all! I love it here, and always have. Things are so much more -- straightforward and honest."

He raised his brows incredulously. "The Lower City is infamous for having the greatest concentration of liars, cheats, thieves and others who 'live by their wits,' to put it mildly, in Tortall."

I frowned. "I don't mean like that. I know every other man and more you meet here is a thief, its not what they do, its how they _act. _In Patten District, I remember, if I offended the master goldsmith's daughter, she wouldn't hit me, or shout, or anything like that. She keep it dark and pretend to be my friend same as always, then plot against me in secret. Folk don't do things like that here. They come out and tell you a thing, and don't sit primly, hands folded, mouthing flowery nothings."

I was a little taken aback by how much had come tumbling out of my mouth.

"So you're a Dog because you wish to protect the Lower City and it's ways?"

"Yes, I--"

"Then hear me out. As you know, not only the Lower City but all of Tortall is threatened by the coming war with Scanra. You could be a great help to us. You look enough like a Scanran to pass for one with a little training, and we need as many people in Scanra as we can. You know that I'm the spymaster. " It wasn't a question. Mayhap he knew I'd been listening that day at my Lord Provost's. "I know that you're the smartest Puppy the Lower City's seen in a fair few years. It would be dangerous, going into Scanra at a time like this, but the smallest piece of information is sometimes enough to turn the balance in a war.

"Would you, Rebakah Cooper, do your best for King and Country by spying for Tortall? I'm not demanding an answer on the spot, I would be a fool to rely on a spur of the moment decision. I'll come back tomorrow, and you can tell me then."

I had heard speeches meant to stir folk up into a flurry of fervor for Tortall and send them rushing off to the recruiting office as fast as their feet would bear them before, but this was different. It felt odd to be singled out like this, and his black, black eyes bored into me and I couldn't seem to think straight any more.

"What would happen after the war?" I managed to ask. "Would I be able to rejoin the Dogs?"

He nodded. "If you still wanted to."

With that, he left.

My head reeled. I sat, unable to move for some reason. I had never, _never _imagined doing anything but Dog work. A spy for Tortall. . . It wasn't strictly true that I could pass for Scanran, but maybe half-Scanran, like Kora.

I shook my head, and willed myself to stand up. To my relief, my immobility seemed to have worn off. I walked out of the room.

Rosto was standing in the hall, leaning against the wall, a look of utter disbelief on his face. In his hands, he held a roll of thick, cream-colored paper and a battered bit of string that had tied it shut.

"The fool," he muttered under his breath. "Pox rot the _scheming_ fool_."_

A little worried, I asked, "What is it, Rosto?

He shook his head back and forth in astonishment. "This letter," he told me, a bit shakily. "It's from --"

To be continued . . .


	5. Stranger from the North

**Hey!**

**To those of you who threaten to spontaneously combust if I don't quit it with the cliffhangers: Sorry. I like them to much. besides, it's not solely for _your _benefit. I love making Gwydion's face turn red, like it always does when she's annoyed. **

**Speaking of Gwydion, she wrote a a short story called _Catch As Catch Can _about Beka and Rosto. Believe it or not, there's more romance then plot! A shockingly un-Gwydion like thing to do (snuffle snuffle. My little sister's growing up!). Anyway, I think it's sweet. Funny too.**

**And now, on with the story!**

**Lizzy, The Feather-Brained Quill (as Gwydion is want to call me.)**

_He shook his head back and forth in astonishment. "This letter," he told me, a bit shakily. "It's from _my father."

"Your father?" I repeated. I hadn't known what to expect, but that wasn't it.

"Yes, the bastard. He says he's waiting outside the back door for me. Right now. Curse him!" Rosto bang his fists into the wall. crumpling the paper. I'd never seen Rosto this wildly angry before. He was always so calm in a fight, that one didn't see the effort it took for him to keep his emotions in check. "Meddling old man!" He growled.

"What's so awful about him being here?" I asked, confused.

"Because he never, ever approved of my leaving Scanra. He's as cunning as a fox. He knows that with the war, I can't send any of my men into Scanra on personal business, and he won't go back on his own. Nor can I keep him here, because that would be harboring the enemy and I'd be a dead Rogue within the week. He's forcing _me_ to take him back to Scanra, myself. And once I get back to that gods-cursed place, he'll do all he can to keep me there. Gods blight him!"

With a visible struggle of will, he calmed himself down. "Well, he's right, too. There's no other way. I'll have to leave Aniki here in charge, and hope she can manage things here till I get back." He turned his black eyes on me, they seemed to be burning with a queer night-fire, like when you can see the shape of the new moon against the sky. It was unnerving to see him acting so unlike himself. "Will you go to the back door and let him into the room you talked to Corhalt in? Keep an eye on him, and for Mithros's sake, _don't give him anything to drink. _I need to tell Aniki, afore I do aught else. His name's Edril._"_

In high haste, he dashed off to the common room, leaving me to walk down the hall, deep in thought.

If Rosto left for Scanra, things would get calmer in the streets. Aniki acts so much more like a Tortallan then Rosto that its seldom folk remember she isn't one. The brawls and mobbing would ease up, and I wouldn't be needed as much.

Something inside me wanted to travel out of Corus for the first time in my life, and see a far-off place. Against all sense, I knew that I would accept Corhalt's offer, for all I was a Dog at heart. It was to tempting, to exciting. And from the sounds of things, it might be better if I traveled with Rosto and his father, if I was welcome, to keep at bay any patricide.

The back door opens onto the small inner courtyard that leads to the stables Rosto insister on having built when he bought the inn. As if we see more then one horse in a year on Nipcopper Close!

In the dancing light of the touch bracketed to the wall outside the door, a man stood. He had white haired,with pale blue eyes and a hint of Rosto in the nose and jaw. He was built like a runner, tall and compact, just like Rosto.

When he saw me, his eyes flickered over me, taking in my comparative youth, my uniform, and probably assessing my ability in a fight. He grinned lopsidedly, revealing receding gums, yellowed teeth and startlingly hooked canines.

"What's this, what's this?" Edril asked with a mere trace of accent. "My fine son the Rogue of Corus sends a Dog to answer to door. Things have turned on their ears in Tortall since I was here if a Dog and a Rat work hand in glove. Unless, I wit, a pretty penny's passed betwixt the two."

I blinked. "You've been to Tortall before?"

"Of course, gixie," he said with another crooked smile. "Who did you think was the Rogue afore Kayfer Deerborn?"

To be continued . . .


	6. A Bargain Struck

**You ask me if I can stop the cliffhangers (mwahahaha!) _again__? _The answer's no, I'm sorry. They keep me honest and the plot moving. Given the least chance, I will ramble, so this is my way of avoiding that. (Besides, where's the harm in tormenting all of you a bit?) **

**And nononononono! Edril will do everything he can to keep Beka and Rosto apart. After all, she's a _Tortallan, _by Iskvale, and Dog at that! What could be worse (in his eyes)! There is small chance that he will ever even be civil to her. But we'll see. . .**

**Lizzy**

_"Of course, gixie," he said with another crooked smile. "Who did you think was the Rogue afore Kayfer Deerborn?"_

"No one becames the Rogue without killing the previous one. You should be dead." It popped out of my mouth for lack of a better thing to say whilst my mind grappled with the notion of this man being the Rogue.

He spat onto the packed dirt of the courtyard. "Not everyone wants to stay in this vile country of yours, girl. I left, an' Deerborn, a' was my second in command, seized my throne. Pox rot him," he added, almost fondly. Then he turned on me again. "And what's your name, girl?"

"Guardswoman Rebakah Cooper." The words were automatic.

"Edril Gietonbrere. That's Edril Hammerfist, in your uncouth speech. "

I stood aside and he stepped through the door, commenting, "The Dancing Dove, indeed. What a pitiful excuse for a name for a gnat! Though no doubt it's fitting, I wit. Dogs at the door, _durnahelg!" _He subsided into muttering.

I was beginning to think that Edril and I were not going to have a happy relationship. He was as arrogant as Rosto, without his son's good qualities to temper it.

I walked him to the back room where the fire still glowed, but he refused to enter, saying, "I'm here to see my idiot son, ye wit, not wait till tedium take me in a broom closet."

I set my teeth. "In. Now." I said in my Dog-voice.

"Or what?" he sneered.

Enough was enough. I yanked his arms up behind his back and marched him through the door. He put up a good fight for a man of his fifty-odd years, but he'd have had to be exceptionally quick with a blade when he was young to be the Rogue, so I was prepared. When I let him go, he swung a fist at either side to my head in rapid succession, And I dodged, nderstanding the reasoning behind his name, Hammerfist.

Suddenly, his attention was diverted by something over my shoulder. "_Boy_!" he roared.

"Father," Rosto answered with equal hostility.

If my plan was to work, I couldn't let Edril, a loyal Scanran, know anything about it. "Rosto, can I talk to you for a minute?"

Eyes not leaving his father's face, Rosto grabbed my arm, pulling me out the door, and slammed it in his father's face. He turned to me.

"You have on your bargaining face, Terrier. What do you want?"

As there was no need to beat about the bush, I said flatly, "I want to travel with you to Scanra when you go."

He raised his eyebrows.

"Don't play ducknobbed, Rosto. You're a smart cove, and you know who Corhalt is. It's not so hard as all that to guess why I want to go to Scanra. Too, I've heard you talking about it enough to know that you'd druther be help Tortall than Scanra."

He considered a moment. "And what would I get out of this deal, and what would you ask in return?"

"I can get you across the Tortallan border, and then escape the clutches of that thorn-tongued demon you call father. You would be my verification of good intent, you're both known to be Scanrans after all, and you could teach me Scanra's ways and speech."

To my surprise, Rosto grinned. "Anything to evade being alone with that old man." We shook hands, and returned to a bellowing Edril.

"Father, you are going back to Scanra. Tomorrow."

"Make me," Edril told him petulantly, matching a teething child and more for ill-temper.

Rosto smiled cooly. "I intend to."

That flumoxed Edril for a moment, then a sly smile crept over his face. I shuddered to think what the Lower City must have been like under his rule. Hardly better then in Kayfer Deerborn's last years, I would think.

"Smart lad," he crooned. "leren'd your lesson, you have now, I wit. Leaving this curst country and all it's filth" --a pointed look at me -- "behind?"

"Not quite. You see, cousin Beka and I have some business that needs tending to in Sca--"

"Cousin?!" Edril said, back at his favored volume of deafening, regarding me with a look of stricken horror. "Iskvale's steeds, boy! Ye don't mean that cur is kin of mine?!"

To be continued . . .

* * *

**A bit slow, perhaps, but all that was important stuff! Iskvale's a Scanran god, in case you didn't catch that. No, he's not from the books. He's Gwydion's, actually. But she let me steal him.  
**

**Hope you enjoyed it! I'd love a review! (All the subtlety of a falling brick, right?).**

**Lizzy, The Ink Stained Quill**


	7. A Cat, a Rat, and a Spy

**Huh. I received a surprising number of pms after that last chapter (thanks to all!), and the weird thing is, all but one of them asked if Gwydion really does squeak and/or get red in the face after a cliffhanger. **

**Though I find your limitless curiosity on the subject rather hard to fathom, I feel compelled to answer. It's actually the way I measure how deadly a cliffhanger is. If she squeaks (and it more like a disgruntled noise then, you know, rubber-duck-esque squeaking) then it's really annoying. If her her cheeks (_not_ her whole face--I've never seen that happen, except for the time she had _awful_ sunburn when she was nine, and that's different) go red, then that's one heck of an ending.**

**Speaking of Gwydion, she's gone and written another short story! (where she finds the time, I don't know. ) This one's got a really weird title, _Gap-skipping and Ice,_ but once you read it, that makes sense. **

**Thanks for reviewing!**

**Lizzy, The Ink Stained Quill of Doom!**

_"Cousin?!" Edril said, back at his favored volume of deafening, regarding me with a look of stricken horror. "Iskvale's steeds, boy! Ye don't mean that cur is kin of mine?!"_

Rosto gave him an impatient look. "Ma _did _have sisters, you know."

"So as she's none of my blood, I'll bide, ye wit? I'll be sleeping now. And there'll be words betwixt thee and me in the morning."

Edril pointedly turned his back to us and lay down by the fire, a dagger in his hand.

Rosto locked the door as we left him to what peace he would have. He said."If you want to learn Scanran before we gat there, we'd best start now. _Han ganhel."_

"_Han ganhel," _I parroted. The hard sounds of the word were very different from lilting Tortallan.

"It means 'the door'. _Han ganhel durstas. _That's close the door._"_

I repeated it.

"Say '_ehi tey amastet."_

I did.

He grinned. "_Plerd," _he told me and pointed to the floor.

"But what does _ehi tey amastet_ mean?" I asked.

His grin widened. "_Plerd_."

Since he obviously wasn't going to tell me, I let out a short sigh. "_Plerd."_

-

After about an hour of this, I had a very basic grasp of Scanran sentence structure, a few words, and bags under my eyes. I went to bed.

I woke to a soft tapping on my door. "Just a minute!" I called quietly so as to not wake Aniki, stumbling out of my nightgown and into a shirt and breeches. I opened the door to a pair of cool dark eyes. Reemest Corhalt. I glanced at the window. It wasn't even dawn yet.

"Have you made your decision yet?" he asked briskly, stepping into the room.

I nodded. "I'm leaving for Scanra later today."

His eyebrows inched up a bit, and he gave me a thin-lipped smiled. For all that, it was charming. "That's what I like about working with Dogs. They take the initiative, make plans. They don't wait around to be told what to do. I assume you've arranged some means to learn the langauge? Excellent! Here," he drew a roll of parchment out of his sleeve, and handed it to me. I could feel heavy wax seals the paper.

"You'll need that to get yourself, and any traveling companions of course, across the border. A man will come by later today with some Scanran clothes that aught to fit you, some money, and all the other things that you will need. We will correspond by messenger pigeons. You are to go to the Scanran Court, in any capacity you can arrange. I already have one person there. He will approach you. You will know him by the words he speaks: 'For a breeze from the south'. You will reply in kind: 'the north blows cold for summer.' Do you have any questions?"

He'd rattled it all off so fast that I was still reeling. I shook my head.

He ran a hand through his hair, and smiled at me again. "I'm sure you'll do well. Go, and the gods speed your way."

He shook my hand, and was gone. Being the Spymaster must do that to a person, make him so efficient there's no time to take a breath, let alone answer. Absently, I sat down on my bed and stroked Pounce's fur, thinking of absolutely nothing, my mind a blank.

Another knock sounded on my door. I frowned. It was really too early to have had _two _visitors already. "Come in," I said.

The door swung open and Rosto came in. He didn't look surprised to see I was already up and dressed. "Corhalt?" he asked and I nodded.

Pounce opened one shining purple eye and gave Rosto a calculating look, as if trying to decide whether or not it was worth the effort of getting up to see if he had something edible about him. Apparently it wasn't, my cat closed his eyes and started purring again.

Rosto sat next to me on the bed. "I've been thinking," he said.

"Novel concept," I grinned.

He mock-scowled at me. "Though the action is unnatural to me," he continued. "I have indeed been thinking. If we both disappear off on the same day, in the same hour, from the same inn, folk are going to think that we ran off together. And that wouldn't serve either of us well."

I flushed slightly and nodded. If folk said that, I'd not be much of a Dog when I got back after this curst war. And a Rogue who ran off with a Dog wouldn't have much respect either.

"So, as I said, I've been thinking, and I've had an idea that would get us both out of this situation."

I ran a finger over Pounce's velvet ear. "What is it?"

To be continued . . .

* * *

**Maybe if you're lucky, I'll tell you what **_**e****hi tey amastet **_**means! It's not that hard to guess! And Iskvale's tale is yet to be told . . . --Lizzy  
**


	8. Battle to the Death

**Yes! ****You mostly guessed right. **_**E****hi tey amastet **_**means 'I love you' in Scanran. To those of you who wish to know, Scanran is going to be a strange mix-up of Latin and gibberish, so there you have it.**

**Especial thanks to Gwydion again, for lending me her Lower City, particularly the Old Docks from _Gap-skipping and Ice_. Oh, and it's her Scanra I'm going to be using too, so . . . thanks sis!**

**Bevin Brighteyes****-- Lol. I admit it. Some of my cliffies are a bit cruel. But they are, as I've said, just too much fun not to do! My favorite part of (almost) every chapter is writing 'To be continued . . . ' at the end. My sister says that I cackle evil as I do it. **

**Lizzy**

_"So, as I said, I've been thinking, and I've had an idea that would get us both out of this situation."_

_I ran a finger over Pounce's velvet ear. "What is it?"_

-

As I paced along the mouth of the alley, I looked up at the sun, about a hair's breadth above the city wall. It was time.

As if he'd heard my thoughts, Rosto came striding out of the bustling crowd fifty paces away and wandered out onto the Old Docks, taking care not to step on any rotten boards. The large building that blotted out the Olorun river as it bent to the south cast a shadow that fell half across him as he reached into his pocket and flipping a copper idly into the Olorun for luck. The coin glittered in the fading sun. It was the signal I'd been waiting for.

I took off at a run, pushing aside any who got in my way. "Piper!" I bellowed, as loudly as I could. Rosto turned. I followed him out onto the Docks, with a mind to my feet. "How _could _you? I always knew you were crooked, but I never thought you'd do sommat as bad as this!"

Every one crowded onto the banks, not venturing out onto the decaying planks, but listening as hard as they could. "What's he done?" someone in the bumping mass of bodies called but I payed him no mind. After all, Rosto hadn't done anything.

"So it's come to this, has it?" Rosto said in a quiet, carrying voice as I reached the edge of the Docks and stood opposite him. He put his hand on the hilt of the long sheath-dagger he wore at his waist. I'd often thought he'd druther wear a sword, if it wouldn't mean his head to carry a noble's weapon.

I drew my own dagger.

"You're forcing my hand, Cooper," Rosto said in that same soft voice. Shivers chased down my spine at the edge of steel in his tone "You aren't a bad sort, as far a Dogs go, but you've left me no choice." With that, he stabbed for my throat. The on-lookers gasped from the back as I ducked and slashed my dagger for his side. He grabbed my wrist, and I grabbed his, each of us trying to gain an advantage.

Without warning, Rosto stumbled, lost his balance. I made as if to press my advantage, but afore I could do a thing, we'd both pitched forward into the swift black water. As if by a purpose, the sun sank behind the wall, taking the last light with it as we were swept round the building by the current and out of sight.

Right into the side of a boat. Tunstall reached down to pull me out of the water, cold even in summer, and grinned at me from beneath the wide brim of his hat. "Well played, " he said, cocking an ear upstream to where the witnesses to our battle were making noise enough for a dozen crownings.

Goodwin extracted a dripping Rosto from the Oloron's embrace and looked at him with distaste. "I suppose you enjoyed that, King Rat," she said, but Rosto didn't smile. Nor did I. It felt eerie to enact a scene that we both dreaded and hoped would never come. For the day we were forced to take our stands on our separate sides of the law against each other was the day one of us would be slain by a friend's hand. I shivered, and Goodwin said, "You had both get under the cargo cover. And make sure the old cove in there keeps his tongue betwixt his teeth."

"She would have gagged him, " Tunstall told me, "But then she would have had to give him a nap tap, and that defeats the whole purpose of this charade, doesn't it. Hard to run when you're out as cold as a Rat's heart."

Rosto started at the phrase, though it was common enough, then crawled under the cargo cover.

"Did you--" I began.

Tunstall cut me off. "No, I haven't delivered the letter to your family yet. But I will, first thing tomorrow morning, I swear it to you. Now go, afore you get caught." I nodded and followed Rosto under the cargo cover.

Just in time, it would seem, as a cove called out over the water not a half a moment after I ducked under. "Hold there! Did you see two people, a mot and a cove, going past in the water, most like strugglin'?"

The reply came in Tunstall's voice. "Aye sir, we did, en't that right, Shara?"

"That is were," Goodwin said, in a thicker Lower City speech then she usually spoke. "Going along at a terrible pace they were. We tried t' catch 'em, but they was just here and then gone, like."

"Well thankee just the same!" the cove said. there was a splash of oars, then nothing.

It was dark under the cargo cover, the thick cloth blotting out what little light remained. I could smell Edril's sour breath from where he hunched miserable. Water droplets fell of me and Rosto, making a slight, hollow noise as they struck the bottom of the boat.

"We'll take you as far as the gate, " Tunstall said quietly. There was a clatter and a scap as he pulled out the oars and dipped them into the Olorun, rowing against the currant.

I fingered the crescent moon amulet Kora had insisted on giving me when we said goodbye. _You'll need the Goddess's favor more then I, going to Scanra with war in the wind, _she'd said, fastening the fine chain around my neck. A chill ran down my spine, and I said, trying to distract myself, "So now _all_ we have to do is get to Scanra. It should be simple after this."

"No, it won't," Goodwin said grimly, quashing my attempt to lighten the mood. "And there's something else you'll have to do afore you can start for Scanra."

"What's that?" Rosto asked beside me.

"You need to get past the Gate Guards first."

To be continued . . .

* * *

**Here is a short story my five-year-old cousin wrote about Beka when she heard Gwydion and I talking about our stories. She made me swear a sacred oath to put it up 'on the big story.' So here it is, word for word, in the original spelling. (Katy equals Gwydion, by the way)**

Beka kiks thee bad pepole_  
_

Thiz iz a stori aboot Beka Cooper. Shee iz a gurl woo kiks bad pepole in to gud pepole. Then shee kizez Rosto, becuz mi cuzin Katy sez he iz dreemy.

Thee end! no mor bad pepole!

**She is a master of the word, no? She's a sweet kid. I wish I could show you the illustrations! :)  
**

**Lizzy**


	9. To the Road

**Hey! **

**My cousin Maria says thank you for mentioning her in your reviews! She is, at this exact moment, pondering the wording the killer sequel she's writing, and chewing on her teddy bear's ear. Hang on . . . some babysitter I am. **

**Lady Wolf - Huh. I think I only used 'thee' once, from Edril the Grump (as I fondly refer to him), and I actually had a reason for that. Edril hasn't been in Tortall for twenty-six years, and I was trying to show that Lower City speech has changed in that time. So I decided to stick in the occation 'thee.' Maybe that is a bit of a drastic language shift for only a quarter century though . . . and I can see how it might disrupt the story. I leave them off now. Thanks for the input. :)**

**Lizzy, Teddy Bear Doctor Extraordinare! (Maria really does have sharp teeth.) **

_"And there's something else you'll have to do afore you can start for Scanra."_

_"What's that?" Rosto asked beside me._

_"You need to get past the Gate Guards first."_

"Why will that be hard?" I said, confused. "Aren't they just supposed to keep large groups of armed people from entering Corus, and stop any suspicious persons?"

I could practically feel Goodwin roll her eyes. "You've never been out of the City, have you Cooper? They aren't going to run you through. They aren't dangerous that way."

"What is it then?"

"They're _imbeciles_."

She wouldn't elaborate on the subject, saying only, with dower tones," You'll find out soon enough."

The rest of the journey was spent in silence. There was a scrape of wood on wood as Tunstall shipped his oars and then a loud thud as we hit the dock. He jumped out and tied the boat to a mooring post with a length of rope.

Stiffly, we crawled out from under the cramped cargo cover, dragging our bags behind us, then slinging them over our shoulders as we disembarked. Edril's sour expression did nothing to dull my excitement. I hugged Tunstall, who patted me on the back and wished me good luck, and a prickly Goodwin, who surprised me by hugging me back briefly.

"Goodbye!" I called as the little boat pulled away and floated downstream, out of sight. They would be late to start their Watch tonight.

Rosto nudged me in the arm. "Come on, Terrier, " he said. "We've a journey to begin."

I nodded, and realized there were tear on my cheeks as one dropped off my chin onto my collarbone, shaken loose by the movement. Thank the gods it was dark, and he couldn't see me acting like a watering pot.

"Let's go see about those Gate Guards then." I said and we walked forward, Edril following in a sulky silence.

The gate was magnificent, etched with scene's picturing the great war with the immortals of legend. Stormwings circled above a fierce battlefield, peppered with mythic creatures and men both. The gate itself was plain wood, but you could see the glimmer of magic weaving through the grain, and a raised portcullis. On wither side of the gate were Watch towers, with three men posted at each with bows, spears, and rocks to defend the gate with until reinforcements from the army barracks and training field could arrive.

Just inward of where circular hole pocked the ground, presumably to hold the portcullis, two men stood, one leaning casually on his spear, the other ramrod straight.

This second jumped as we neared them. "Halt-who-goes-there-in-the-name-of-the-King-speak-and-state-your-purpose-hither!" he said with out drawing breath.

"I beg your pardon?" Rosto said with a heavy Tyran accent.

"I said, 'Halt-who-goes-there-in-the-name-of--'"

"Oh, shut it, Barrald," said the other Gate Guard. He turned to squint at us through the glare of the bracketed torches., his gaze flicking to Rosto, to Edril, then coming on rest on me. "Look 'ere. The way I see things is this. You are three travelers, looking to be let out of this here gate. My gate. And I'm a poor soldier stuck here with none to talk to save this babbling recruit who only got his post. Now, far be it from me to complain of the lot Fate and the gods have cast me. But I'm in sore need of some company, an' you catch my meaning."

"No, I'm afraid we don't."Rosto stated flatly."But," he flipped a golden crown to the man, "we would be most appreciative if you would let us through the gate now. " He tapped his money bag, which gave the unmistakable clink of coins. "_Most_ appreciative."

"Well, thankee kindly, I'm sure, but you see its _company_ I want. It's not often the likes of us see the likes of you and we've a liking for conversation, and the like." The guard chuckled, leaning forward on the spear. Then he stood up and abruptly. "So when it comes down to it, a flea bitten guard isn't the most sought after companion by the ladies. One kiss from the 'ansome gixie and you're off."

_Imbeciles, _I thought, in utter agreement with Goodwin. To speak sooth, I aught to have expected something of the kind. I'd heard tales enough from my friend Tansy of the guards and their tricks. _Godsblest time to remember, when there's naught I can do about it. _But mayhap there was._  
_

Rosto looked at me and raised his eyebrows over those ice-black eyes. His mouth quirked up at the corner, and I realized he was holding back laughter, most like at the expression on my face, which felt sour. I stepped into the torchlight, and let my eyes ice over. I glared at the guard for a full minute while the color drained from his face and he stumble back a step, then I said in a voice like winter, "Kindly let us through the gate now, master guard."

"Just as ye say, miss." He mumbled and fumbled to jam a key into the lock on the small by-foot-door in the gate.

Without a word, I went through, Rosto and his father at my heels. The door slammed shut behind us and the lock clicked loudly.

"I tell you Barrald, 'er eyes was like a ghosts . . . " I heard the muffled words as we strode away from gate.

"Cor, "Said Edril in and under tone to his son, "but I shouldn't like to get on her bad side."

"Nor would I," came the murmured reply, his voice thick with amusment.

The road ahead of us was moon-dappled and worn, with ruts in the hard-packed earth from the many carts and wagons to have passed thins way. Far, far in the distance, I could see the hazy outline of mountains on the northern horizon.

"And now, " I breathed to myself, "For Scanra."

Rosto had drawn abreast of me in the darkness without my noticing. He chuckled softly and put a hand on my arm.

"They don't stand a chance with you on the case, Terrier."

To be continued . . .


	10. The Long Road North

**I'm back!**

**Rakasha Shadowfang - thanks for the suggestions! That's really interesting stuff. More's the pity that I already have a Scanra, complete with plot! Maybe next story. Thank you.**

**Hell has officially frozen over! Gwydion's writing a romance (well, as close as she can get without relinquishing her precious plot-ideals). Its called _Dreaming of You.  
_**

**She's also started another story called _Emerald Fire _for Eragon which doesn't get half the reviews it deserves, with the amount of effort she's put into it! (Big sisters. we can't help being protective.)  
**

**I've also started some new stories, _By Curse and By Spell _for Percy Jackson and the Olympians and _Misdemeanors _for Tamora Pierce. **

**And now, without further ado, off to Scanra!**

**Lizzy, The Silly As A Goose Feather Quill**

_"And now, " I breathed to myself, "For Scanra."  
_

_Rosto had drawn abreast of me in the darkness without my noticing. He chuckled softly and put a hand on my arm._

_"They don't stand a chance with you on the case, Terrier."_

-

It took us all of two weeks to reach the Scanran border. I can't remember a time when I've had more fun or more misery. Rosto proved to be the source of all fun, his father that of the misery. There is no worse traveling companion then an old whining man who feels the constant urge to inflict his asinine pearls of wisdom upon the next generation.

Rosto on the flip side of the coin, didn't seem to mind giving me the most abbreviated course on Scanran ever embarked upon by a pair of loobies. Pounce refused to help though. He stated firmly that he was a constellation, and constellations could do as they pleased, as demonstrated by the fact that he followed us out of Corus, for all it would have been better for him to stay with Kora and Aniki. The poor mots probably think he's run off with his lady-cat.

As we traveled further north, the oppressive heat and humidity eased off, and soon it was plain chilly at night. I was startled by the drastic change. For some reason, I always thought of Scanra as being the only place where the winter never leaves, probably because it's so high on the Plateau. The days got steadily less scorching as we went until it was hardly warm at all.

Edril Hammerfist, in so far as I have been able to determine thus far, has few uses. They are as follows:

He can chop wood worth a dozen men (though he is forever trying to get Rosto or me to do it in his stead). Rosto has told me that its what he does for a living in Scanra.

I learned a very complete collection of Scanran curses from him, by Iskvale's steeds!

Given half the chance, he will spin a tale as insubstantial as mist, and as transparent as a pane of glass.

Other then these scant virtues, he has turned out to be a worthless lay-about, and what's more, he snores. Strangest of all strange things, though, Pounce seems to have taken a fancy to him. I wouldn't call it liking, unless it be a liking to torment the old man. And what a terror my cat can be when he sets his mind to the task! I surely would scold him for plaguing Edril so, if I had the breath to. I'm sorry to say that it all went into laughing at Pounce's antics.

One morning, whilst we were sitting around the fire eating our breakfast of stale bread, dried fruit, and cold traveler's stew from the night before, Rosto made some casual comment -- I don't even recall what it was -- and Edril exploded. With my patchy Scanran, I managed to catch the gist of his words. 'How could any son of his be so degraded as to flirt with a Tortallan!' Apparently, the shame of having Tortallan blood is not diminished by the Scanran half he believes that I possess.

As to the rest of the journey, it was uneventful. We passed a few other travelers, though none bound for the border like us.

On the seventeenth day out of Corus, Rosto called from further up the road. We were staggered out by about fifty paces, him in front, then me, then Edril lagging behind with Pounce darting around him, trying to climb up to his shoulder, tripping him. Fool cat.

"Beka," Rosto called to me. "Look."

I ran to catch up with him, standing beside him on the top of the rise we'd been climbing. Very near and stark against the horizon, mountains loomed, their peaks clouded with mist. The sight knocked my breath from my lungs. They were just too big!

When I could finally tear my eyes away from the Scanran mountains, I followed the direction of Rosto's pointing finger.

"The Border Guard," he said.

To be continued . . .

**Not my best, I know. I stink at the whole 'from one place to another' writing bit. I just want them to get there already. Also, with Gwydion and my foolish promise to have updated all of our stories before the Sunday week, there isn't really time to be fancy. **

**So once again, sorry for the short chapter. Thanks for reading! (And reviewing? Please?)**

**Lizzy**


	11. A Promise to the Captain

**Ahh! Once again I've abandoned you for far too long. At least I have a good excuse this time (see my profile for details).**

**Now, on with the very belated update! Thanks to every one who reviewed, and for your patience. **

**Lizzy**

__

When I could finally tear my eyes away from the Scanran mountains, I followed the direction of Rosto's pointing finger.

"The Border Guard," he said.

"They shouldn't be a problem," I said with more confidence then I felt.

He raised an eyebrow at me, clearly seeing through me. "You do have that letter with the all the fancy seals, you know. Even if it doesn't get us through, they'll at least give us credit for doing the thing properly, barring no expense on wax and forged seals."

I smiled, and started down the rise.

"Halt!" said a voice, and I immediately got the impression that the speaker was more then competent, as different from the Gate Guards as night from day. A tall man stepped out from behind a boulder, a drawn bow aimed straight for my chest. "State your name and purpose. You have ten seconds before I shoot, else. "

"Rebakah Cooper, trainee Guardswoman of the Provost's Guard in Corus, and my companions are Roren Carver and his father, Liord Carver, both also from Corus." I rattled off. I'd practiced the whole thing several times the night before. "We intend to cross the border into Scanra on official business, and I am in possession of document that verifies my claim."

The guard gave me a calculating look, then said, "You'd better follow me. Basel, Conris!" Two more guards emerged, both armed like the first. "Keep an eye on these two while I take her to see the Captain."

As the first guard led me away, I heard Conris ask Edril suspiciously what he did in Corus. Clenching my fists, I strained to hear his reply. If he said the wrong thing now. . .

"Butcher," was all he said. I let out a sigh of relief.

My guard delivered me to the mouth of a large tent, into the charge of another soldier, who watched me while the first guard went inside, presumably to explain why I was there. I distinctly heard the words, "Bring her in," and the soldier guarding me gave me a little shove towards the tent flap.

Inside, the Captain's tent was decidedly spartan, with only a desk, a rough bed, and a trunk. He himself sat behind the desk, his neatly trimmed beard and mustache concealing the greater part of his face so that I couldn't see his expression.

He gave me a level stare, then said in an unusually deep, resonant voice, "Leave us, Harlic." The guard saluted, and marched out of the tent.

Uncertainly, I proffered the scroll Corhalt had given to me. After reading it, the Captain looked sternly up at me.

"I don't like spies, Mistress Cooper," he said. "Nasty, sneaking sorts of people who live for their own gain at the expense of those for whom they profess friendship. I don't trust you. But I understand that in times such as these, any advantage we might get could be the difference between lives saved and lives lost. Information . . . " his voice tailed away for a moment, then his eyes snapped back to me.

"So it comes down to this, Mistress Cooper. I'm going to speak quite plainly to you. Should I so choose, I could have you and your companions imprisoned or even executed on the charge of trying run to border with false documents." I opened my mouth to speak, but he cut me off. "I know that they are genuine. But we are at war, and no one would censure my actions in attempting to protect Tortall, you understand me?"

Heart thumping, I nodded.

"If you wish to pass unscathed, you must do one thing for me: give me your oath that you will send me all the information that you pass to Corhalt. Before you send it to him. Break your word and I will make it my personal business to track you down and make you pay."

I took a deep steadying breath, wondering, _What was I thinking to agree to be a spy? I'm not prepared for this. I don't stand a chance. Manipulation, threats, I don't know how to deal with all this . . . _

I raised my eyes and looked at the Captain full on. "Of course I would be willing to send you information. Anything for the good of _Tortall,_" I laid a slight stress on the last word, and the Captain let out a bark of genuine amusement.

"Clever!" he said. "Very clever. Corhalt knew what he was about with you." He sobered. "There's no proof of my allegiance that I can offer to you other then my past. I have served in the army for twenty-seven years. In all that time, I have never received a reprimand, or even a warning. I will do whatever it takes to ensure that Tortall comes out on top in this war."

His eyes burned with something that might have been fanaticism, but I couldn't doubt his words. "In that case, I give you my word that I will send you as much information as is possible. But you should know that I'll have to use runners to get to you, and I have . . . other means for my communication with Master Corhalt."

He nodded. "I expected that. Do what you can. Now, be off with you," he said abruptly. "Private Harlic!" the guard reappeared. "Escort Mistress Cooper and her companions to the border."

"Yes, sir," Harlic said, and led me away. My heart was still pounding fit to burst. _Did I do the right thing? _I wondered, then shook my head to clear it. Whether or no it was right, it was done now, and I couldn't see any other alternative that would have succeeded.

In silence, Rosto, Pounce, Edril and I trudged across the half-frozen ground to the edge of the Tortallan border. Without a word, our guard turned about and started back for the camp.

I looked around at my companions; Edril, his sulky face a mass of fine wrinkle and frown lines; Rosto, his mouth pressed into a grim line at the thought of reentering the country he thought he had escaped forever; Pounce, his purple eyes wide and mysterious, even more enigmatic then usual.

I let out a long breath, and said, "Well, let's go then."

We started up the steep incline to the Scanran Plateau.

To be continued . . .

* * *

**This is where things start to get really interesting! Ooooooooo, I can't wait for them to dump Edril and -- but you'll find out about all that soon enough. **

**Reviews are always appreciated, and I'll try to update again soon!**

**Lizzy**


	12. On the Rim of the Scanran Plateau

**I'd forgotten how much fun this story is . . . again. He's an update, swift upon the heels of the last. I managed to get on the computer while the cousins were still in bed, and then again while they were at a friend's house! Yay!**

**Thank you so so so much for the reviews! Into triple digits! **

**Lizzy, The Ink Stained Babysitter**

_I let out a long breath, and said, "Well, let's go then."_

_We started up the steep incline to the Scanran Plateau._

-

I hate Scanran clothes. I hate them with a passion. I hate them more then I hate Edril's whining.

Rosto says that I will get used to them eventual. I know he's right, but that didn't stop me from answering snappishly, "And when did you ever have to wear the clothes of a Scanran woman?"

He knew I didn't really mean it. I could see the corners of his mouth twitch upward. "My sister never complained."

I stopped fidgeting the collar of my coat and stared at him. "You have a sister?"

"Yes, and unless I'm much mistaken, you'll be meeting her before long."

Its hard to imagine what a sister of his would be like. I opened my mouth to ask more, but Pounce flicked his tail at me in a way that said, _stop being nosy._

Rosto's eyes darted down my cat, and he smiled in a way that made me wonder just how much he knows about Pounce. It would be no use asking the fool of a cat, I know he wouldn't answer me.

Edril stumped over, glaring, and growled, "She's still just as useless as you, Claria is."

"Good for her," Rosto answered cooly.

Since we started up toward the Scanran Plateau five days ago, Edril has been less vocal about his disapproval of me, the road, me, the misuse we subject his poor old bones to, me, the folly of his son, me, and all things with four paws, whiskers, a tail, and a wicked sense of fun. I think he realizes that his attempt to lure his son into staying in Scanra has been a monumental failure.

We've made good time for all that the going has been steep, (it must be much easier going down then up: you could just slide) and we should reach the Plateau sometime in the afternoon. According to Rosto, its two more days walking from the rim to the main city of Scanra, Lom-Borwit. It means 'bloody ax' in Scanran. The more I learn of the language, the more charming it becomes. I'm now able to have only slightly stilted conversations with Rosto in Scanran. Edril thinks my accent's off, but I don't see how that can be helped, really.

Rosto interrupted my musings by tapping me on the shoulder. I looked up, the noon sun making my squint slightly, and saw a glint of mischief in his eye.

"You'd better put on your gloves," he said, biting back a laugh as I sent him a look like thunder. "You wouldn't want to miss the chance to put on more of the 'awful Scanran clothes.' "

I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Beg pardon," he chuckled, "I meant, you wouldn't want to get frost bite."

"But of course," I grumbled as I pulled on the long gloves. Pity that the soft dusting of snow was too dry for snowballs.

Suddenly I straightened up, my eyes riveted on a stirring far up slope from where we were stopped for lunch.

"What's that?" I said.

"Looks like a -- boulder maybe, or a large piece of ice." Rosto said, also peering toward the object as it rolled and span down toward us.

"No," my breath caught in my throat as I caught a glimpse of whirling arms, legs, a frightened face. "Its a man!"

To be continued . . .

**I know that this was a bit short, but it was necessary! Thanks again for reviewing! I'll try to update again soon.**

**Also: I've put up a poll on my profile just for this story . . . come and vote! ****--Lizzy  
**


	13. Fallen Ankhel

**'Nother update! I'm getting a lot more writing done then I thought I could!**

**I've started another story, (no, I'm not going to dump you guys for it) this one for Twilight. Its post Breaking Dawn and about (dare I say the name? Whatever. I'll just do it. ) Renesmee, and its called _That I Must Love a Loathed Enemy. _I got the name from a line in _Romeo and Juliet. _I'm really excited about it! Its almost as fun as this story.**

**Misslune - I'm glad you approve! I'll keep your words in mind. I'm sorry to say though that I can't give definite days for updating. I'm busy with family a lot at the moment. But I can promise you that I _will _update, even if it takes a while.**

**Michigander3893- I hope this relieves your pain. ;)****  
**

**About Ankhel's name: it starts 'ah' as in 'ah, what a lovely cup of tea,' not 'AHHHHH THE MONSTER'S GOT ME BY THE ANKLE!' **

**'Kay?**

**Also, _telnara _is a standard Scanran greeting, like hello.**

**Lizzy**

_"No," my breath caught in my throat as I caught a glimpse of whirling arms, legs, a frightened face. "Its a man!"_

There was no time to act, to move, to _think. _One moment we were gaping up the steep slope at the plummeting figure, the next he had thudded straight into Edril, effectively stopping his wild tumble downward and knocking to old man off his feet.

For a long moment he just lay there, his body obscured by the heavy furs that he wore, his eyes covered by what appeared to be a strip of tough bark with slits to see through. His only truly distinguishing feature was his decidedly square jaw.

Dazed, the man stumbled to his feet, looking at each of us in turn, Edril cursing on the ground, me staring dumbly, Rosto crossing his arms and assuming his 'I'm going to get some answers' expression. The man's gaze lingered on him. He peered disbelievingly at him for a moment, then exclaimed, "Rosto!" and continued on in rapid Scanran. I was surprised -- and very pleased -- to understand the greater part of what he said.

"_Telnara_, Rosto, my brother in battle, what brings you here to the edge of the _halsfag?_" I couldn't understand the last word.

"And you, my friend?" Rosto replied, as unsettled as any self respecting Rogue will allow himself to be. "I never thought to see you again, let alone in such a manner."

The man snorted. "But I am _glasnorok _now. Anyone maybe so in this wreck of a country if he can prove he has some courage and much gold."

Rosto frowned. "But you always -- ah, I understand. Claria. She is still at court, then?"

"Love makes a fool of the strongest warrior," the man shrugged, then his eyes flicked to me. "Even heartless Rosto?"

"Not at all," Rosto said smoothly. "This is my cousin, Rebakah Cooper. Things are rough in Tortall for any with Scanran blood right now. Beka, this is my oldest friend, Ankhel Durvast-Mitten."

"_Telnara_," I mumbled. Nice to know that somethings never changed; I was just as shy in Scanran as Tortallan. Though, judging by his last name, I had every reason to be nervous. 'Fear his rage,' it meant.

"But what are you doing here, Ankhel?" Rosto demanded, and I couldn't tell if he was angry or it was just my being unused to the rough sounds of the language. "You know the ice far to well to fall by chance!"

Ankhel shook his head, "Nor did I." He muttered a handful of curses I'd heard many times before from Edril.

Edril! I glanced at him to check that he had survived the collision without scathe. He was sitting in the snow, mouth turned sourly down, arms crossed petulantly. I decided not to worry about him.

"I was pushed by an assassin," Ankhel sighed. "Its not the first time, either. Sometimes I wonder how the gods-blighted country has stayed together as long as it has."

"Is it wise to talk so?" Rosto asked carefully, a warning and a question.

A short bark of laughter was his reply. "Don't fear for me, my friend. Treason is fashionable at the moment." He sighed again. "A hundred years ago, civilization had never been heard of in Scanra. It won't take another hundred years for it to be forgotten again. It makes one wonder, does it not, if that old king of legend, what was his name?"

"Everald the -- "

"The Hope Bringer, I remember now. It makes one wonder if he really did Scanra such a favor."

The name stirred something in my memory. A story I'd heard as a little girl in Mutt Piddle Lane. King Everald of Tortall had been brought up alongside a man of Scanra, Hirram. Together, they'd fought to establish Hirram as the King of Scanra -- a country accustomed to the warring of clans and authority coming from the strongest and the toughest. The attempt had been shockingly successful, for a while at least.

"Things are worse then I had imagined . . . " Rosto murmured, then looked back up at Ankhel. "What have you done to have assassins after you?"

"Nothing, and that's the worst of it. They weren't after me, but Coval Minstanav, our bold King Questiar's favorite official."

"Have you no respect, _boy?_" Edril growled as he at last clambered to his feet, glaring.

It was hard to see behind the slits in his mask, but I could have sworn that Ankhel rolled his eyes before turning to face Edril.

"My apologies, Master Gietonbrere. I trust you are in good health?" Not waiting for an answer, he turned back to Rosto. "Your sister has missed you more then you can know," he said. "You will see her, I hope, before you do anything else? She says that since you left, there's no one to have informed conversation with anymore."

"What, are you not able to keep up with Claria, then, Ankhel?"

Ankhel smiled. "I asked her the same thing, and you know how she replied? 'There are better uses for you then conversation.' "

Rosto chuckled. "That sounds like the Ria I remember. Is she as good a fine lady as she was a thief?"

"To tell the truth, there's not much difference."

I really wanted to meet Claria. She sounded very . . . personable.

"So you plan to establish yourself at Questiar's court, such as it is?" Ankhel asked.

Rosto smiled a many-layered smile. "Yes, that is my plan. Besides, Cousin Beka has a great wish to see the Scanran Court while it lasts."

"About as much as she wishes to die a slow death by torture, so help me" I muttered in Tortallan.

Rosto turned face me, his eyebrow predictably raised. "I thought this was _your _idea, Beka," he replied in the same language. "Not getting cold feet, are we?"

"If I am," I answered, scowling at him. "Its because of all the sarden snow you have in this poxy place."

A slow smile spread across Rosto's face, and he looked at Ankhel, who in turn let a grin break out across his face. Too late, I remebered that there was a possibility that Ankhel Durvast-Mitten spoke Tortallan every bit as well as Rosto had done the first day I met him, fresh out of Scanra. Had probably learned it at the same time as Rosto.

I could feel a flush stealing across my face as, at the same time, the two Scanran men turned to grin at me.

"I can't wait to introduce her to Claria," said Ankhel fervently.

To be continued . . .

**Remember to visit my profile and vote on the poll! Thank you all for the reviews! --Lizzy**


	14. Author's Note

Hello, you poor neglected readers.

I'm writing to you from a library computer, and in strict violation of parental decree.

I would like to go on with this story. I had a lot of plans for it, and, even though I haven't been there for a long time, reading _Bloodhound _fired me with new resolve.

The thing is, I can't. My computer -- and my parents -- strongly disagree with ff (dot) net. And until I go to college, their word is my command.

I don't want to see this story die, though. If one of you would like to take it over, I would be over the moon. I would be willing to corrospond by email, giving help with editing and plot, even if I couldn't do a darn thing on the site-which-must-not-be-visited myself.

So:

**Tell me in a review if you are interested in having a go at this story.**

I'll be there to help if I'm wanted, and if not, I promise not to be obnoxious about my 'baby.'

Maybe one day, when I am released from the parental dictatorship (note the humor, please), I'll come back to ff (dot) net. But, you know, the Bible has a point when it says 'Obey your father and mother, that it may go well with you.' It's not pleasant to live in a state of open warfare, and that's not something I really want to do in front of my baby sister (hello, Gwydion/Katy). Enough of the big sister sentimentality. I do beleive I'm getting quite maudlin, and that just won't do.

Sir Gwydion is also forbidden from ever setting cursor on this site again, but she's voted for an honorable demise for _Bloodhound on the Scent, _rather than surrender her darling to the hands of another writer. She wants me to say she's sorry.

I'm sorry, too.

Wishing you all the best,

Lizzy, The Ink Stained Quill


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